


Snowed In

by Skellyagogo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Female reader insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo
Summary: After a long hunt and his inability to listen to you, the storm closes in.  It’s too late now and he hates being wrong, but heads to the nearest motel.  What’s the worst that could happen during a white-out snowstorm that traps you for days?
Kudos: 5





	Snowed In

  


**********

The roar of Baby’s engine as it sped passed the graveyard we’d previously been, Ghouls be damned. The chill was heavy in the air, dark grey clouds billowed in the sky above. Plump snowflakes drifting down covering the few feet of snow already on the ground. I knew what we were in for, it was only a matter of Dean finally listening for once. His hands gripped tight on the steering wheel, music blaring, his jaw clenching in frustration. He despised Ghouls worse than others, the whole eating people just creeped him out, not that he’d ever say it out loud. I could hear the bags rolling around in the trunk as he took the corner a little too sharply. We’d never make it back to Kansas if he didn’t listen.

“You might as well stop at the gas station, load up on supplies, and head to the nearest motel.” I leaned my head against the window watching the clouds, I knew the signs and the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a ditch somewhere because he was too stubborn. I’d been mentioning the incoming storm for days.

“It’s not going to storm Y/n. No way is there going to be a blizzard.” There wasn’t a need to look at him, I could picture his face. The stern annoyed squinted eyes, the flexing of his jaw, the thinned pursed lips.

“Yes, it will. Look it’s already started and it’ll only get worse. Please, I’ll pay for the snacks and the beer. I promise you, we won’t make it 60 miles down the road before it’s too late.” I turned back to face him in time to see him roll his eyes.

“The jobs done, I just want to go home and sleep in my bed. Come on Y/n, we’ve been on the road for weeks now.” His hands wrung the steering wheel, eyes dashed back to the road ahead.

“Dean, I grew up in the Midwest. Trust me, I know snowstorms. I’ve been warning you all week.” I’d lived through too many blizzards in my childhood to forget.

“We’ll be fine,” he side-eyed me agitated, glancing towards the dashboard. “I take that back, I need to get some gas.”

The snow picked up more violently as we pulled into the gas station. I held back the smirk seeing him eyeing the weather around us, the bite of the wind at his face. The way he shrugged his shoulders trying to get his jacket to cover his neck. I crawled out of the car and shook my head smiling heading in for supplies. I had a basket full of snacks and junk to tide us over for maybe two days, three tops, and a case of beer. Dean walked in eyed the single case in my hand rolling his eyes.

I’d just dumped everything on the counter, the clerk ringing it all up when the meteorologist on the tv behind the cash register gave a warning for all to stay indoors, that the storm was moving faster than anticipated. Dean’s eye flickered toward the single case of beer again and walked back to the cooler grabbing two more.

Dean wandered back towards the door grabbing a basket of his own jamming it full of whatever he could get his hands on. The whole time he walked around the store he avoided my gaze. By the time he’d come back to the clerk, he’d asked for a small bottle of whiskey kept behind the register.

I only glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye, suppressing the smug grin. There was an irritating look of awe careening over his face. We’d barely made it to the motel and got a room before the snow had started to come down too thick to see. It was a total white-out.

“How’d you know?” He asked dumping our bags on the only queen bed in the last available room. It was cliche and just my luck, he didn’t seem to mind one bit either.

“Told you, I grew up in the Midwest. I know what a snowstorm and the warning signs look like. It’s not like I enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice Dean, but I’ve been telling you this would happen all week.” My back to him putting the drinks in the minifridge. I just shrugged my shoulders, I should have been used to him not hearing a word I said by now.

“Sam and I have been on the road since we were kids, one side of the country to the other and we’ve seen some shit, but we’ve never been able to just look up at the sky and know.” Gone was the irritation in his voice, replaced by uncommon calmness.

He plopped down on the bed, pulling off his boots, and leaned against the headboard. The familiar burning sensation of his gaze watching me bent over in front of the fridge.

“Can you NOT be creepy like that?” I chuckled straightening up glaring at him. There were always glances and flirting, but nothing more. Not for my lack of trying either.

“Like what sweetheart?” The laugh was light and obvious, heavy on the Dean Charm.

“Gee, I don’t know, stare at me like I’m a ‘fresh out of the oven cherry pie’.” Rolling my eyes I tossed a beer at him.

“Nah, that’s over there on the table, you… you’re something different.” That smirk followed by a wink sent a shiver through me I tried to pass off as a chill by playing with the thermostat.

“You cheated!” He groaned chugging the last of his beer and tossing his cards angrily on the tabletop.

“Hardly, even the 'Great Dean Winchester’ has a tell.” It’d taken me a long time to figure it out, but when I did, I wasn’t sure whether I should be annoyed or flattered.

“I do not!” He growled reaching behind him digging in the fridge for another beer. When he turned back his heavily buzzed gaze watched hardly amused as I shuffled the deck of cards for another round of cards.

Dean had suggested poker, either for cash or chore favors at home it didn’t matter. I was sitting pretty not having to do much as far as chores were concerned around the bunker for nearly two months. No supply runs, no beer runs, not having to do dishes, or cook dinner. No repairs on the cars or the bunker systems itself. It looked like I could sit back and do whatever I wanted for the next two months, plus his $350 in cash he lost was weighing heavy in my pockets. His eyes told me I’d ruffled his feathers, he didn’t like losing. Dean had an ego about his poker skills.

“Oh, but you do!” I laughed smugly dealing out new cards, setting the rest of the deck in the middle of the table. A few beers in and I felt relaxed, and you know what they say. Loose lips sink ships. "When your hand is shitty you linger on my chest, and when you’ve got a killer hand you can’t stop staring at my mouth.“

"Whatever Y/n.” He dropped his cards on the table abruptly leaving his seat. The way he held himself, the taut shoulders and hardened jaw as he grabbed his bag and stomped into the bathroom slamming the door on further discussion.

Dean was the only person I knew that managed to make turning on a shower sound angry and aggressive. Flirting had been something we’d done for ages, nothing ever came of it. It was mostly harmless, but calling him out on it was a sore spot. It was as if I’d crossed the line calling it out. Like it was no longer a game anymore, but something real. The elephant in the room finally being addressed. I pulled out my phone dialing Sam before it got too late.

“Heya Sam,” but even he could tell the cheerfulness was fake. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good, what’s up? Something happen on the hunt?” Muffled sounds of his 80s glam rock music playing in the background.

“The hunt was fine, smoother than I expected. It’s just…” I sighed because I had no idea how long this storm would last.

“Just what Y/n? Did Dean do something?” His concern was always so endearing.

“We’re kinda stuck here. I kept telling him all week about the storm, but you know how he is and now… now we’re snowed in for who knows how long.”

“Oh, I see. Let me guess, you cracked a joke and now he’s sulking?” His concern sounding more amused than worried.

“Pretty much. We were playing poker and I pointed out his tell after he lost another hand and he stormed off to the bathroom like a child.”

“Right, are we thinking about the same tell?” Sam wasn’t trying hard at all not laughing.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Fumbling through my bags so I’d have everything I needed to get into the bathroom after Dean came out. The sleeping arrangement wasn’t ideal, not now.

“Bad hand he stares at your chest, winning hand he stares at your lips. Honestly, he’s done that forever, but that’s none of my business.” He covered the phone to muffle his laughter.

“Well I’ll be damned,” I chuckled. “How in the hell can he make taking a shower sound so angry?”

“No idea but he’s done that since we were kids. Look I’m sorry you guys are stuck, I’m sure if you called Cas he’d get you home.”

“I know Sam, I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t doubt it if Dean isn’t in the bathroom praying to Cas right now. I don’t get it though, we flirt all the time and the one time I point it out he flips.”

“It’s Dean, Y/n. He’s a stubborn emotionally stunted dipshit.” He was trying to be serious but it only made me laugh.

“Thanks, Sam, I’ll call you when the weather lets up and we can get on the road.”

By the time Dean had come out of the bathroom, he did so followed by a cloud of steam billowing around him. A towel around his shoulders, face partially covered with the same towel as he dried his hair. I nudged my way past him not wanting to speak at all. If he wanted to play childish games then I was more than willing to go along. Turning the shower back on, colder showers never bothered me at all.

I set my bag on the floor and stood in front of the sink washing my face. Some gorgeous facial scrub and moisturizer that Donna had given me for Christmas. I scrubbed off the sweat and grime ignoring the fact that Dean was still standing in the doorway watching me. I could see him in the mirror but paid him no mind.

He stood stark still, almost frozen. Licking his lips, blinking in a daze. I could hear him gulp, swallowing air. Washing the salt scrub off my face, I could see that dreamy expression on his face. The softened awe and wonder in his eyes. He shook his head, knocking himself out of his daze. Backing away silently as he closed the door, but the sound of a faint, 'son of a bitch’ was heard from the other side of the door.

Dean was in bed when I came out of the bathroom, no surprise after being in there for so long. His back was to me. Ever the protector, he’d chosen the side of the bed closest to the door. Dean was just like that, making himself the first line of defense in all situations. He knew damned well I could handle myself, but there was something chivalrous about him whether he’d admit it or not.

Sleep was awkward and restless. He’d made sure that he was on the very edge of the bed, as far away from me as possible. His breathing was slow and shallow, but I knew he was still awake. The glow of the television he’d left on glistening in his eyes as he rolled over and laid on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, so focused on the swirls in the stucco. It was too tempting not to watch him. Laying on my stomach facing him. Damp strands of my hair providing a sort of camouflage covering.

Dean was handsome, there was no question about that, but more so in moments like this. A vulnerable softness in his features, the laugh lines around his eyes highlighted in the glow from the tv. The subtle hint of beard stubble poking out, trying in vain to cover his strong cheekbones. He’d tossed and turned for a while. His hair building up static as it rubbed against the pillows.

His hair had been darkening a little bit each year, no longer a sandy blond, but a warm caramel blond. Its been a while since his last haircut, he was getting a little 'shaggy’ he had claimed weeks before. The longer parts were sticking up from the static charge. I loved that spiky hedgehog look he woke up with every morning.

Dean though tossing, was relaxed laying there. No hints of worry lines over face. No anger or regret, just a silent calm. This look suited him better than the usual 'I wear the weight of the world on my shoulders’ expression he normally wore. I watched his eyes close. The rise and slow fall of his chest.

So much space between us in this bed. The heater clinking and groaning to life. Forced hot air swirling around the room. Sounds of the wind howling outside. Part of me wanted to get out of bed to see how deep the snow had gotten in the last few hours. The last forecast we’d heard wasn’t exactly forthcoming on how much snow would accumulate. One meteorologist on the news said some places like the middle of nowhere town we were in would be stuck for a few days. The downfall of small towns and low budgets for a fleet of snowplows.

Dean had settled himself on his back again. Eyes fluttering behind closed lids. A faint sigh I barely heard left his lips. A sudden warmth crept its way across the valley of the bed between us. The heat from his hand as it brushed against my thigh. His fingers lingered over the rip in my flannel pants that left a small bit of skin exposed.

The touch was light as a feather and soft. If I hadn’t been awake, I doubt I would have felt it at all. Dean’s thumb swept over the exposed flesh. Twirling circles as he sighed before pulling his hand away. He flopped over on his side facing the door again. I laid there for some time stunned by what he’d done.

It was the most gentle, yet innocent action he’d ever made and all when he thought I was asleep. Like it was some form of apology. A way to say he was sorry without uttering the words outloud. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about it and yet I wanted his hand back resting where it’d been.

I’d awoken before Dean. Going around my morning routine on auto-pilot. Lost in thoughts wondering if it’d been a dream. Had I felt his touch or was it just a sub-conscience desire? Was he trying to ease his mind and forget his little tantrum? Or was he ready to admit what other people had seen all along? I knew Jody, Bobby, Sam, hell even Gabriel had brought it up to him.

That obvious attraction between us. The flirting and the jokes. All those subtle and not subtle touches. How frustrated and annoyed Dean would get when I flirted to get information for a case. He hated the way I got hit on at bars, how each guy thought they stood a chance. Dean would get pissy over it and drink the night away in silence. Glaring and making comments under his breath.

All he’d see was the way those guys would eye me up. Their hands wandering lower and lower down my back. He’d leave the bar altogether by then, never seeing me take them down the instant I felt their hands on my ass. It’d be Sam that would have to haul me out of the bar before the brawl could start.

There would never be any discussion about it while I was present, but you better believe I heard the ramblings and rantings echoing through the halls back in the bunker. Dean upset and overdramatic spouting how I should know better. That one day he won’t be there to protect me and so forth. Sam would laugh and argue over his statement, relay the fight that almost happened. How easily I took the guy out with a single punch, but Dean never wanted to hear it. Sam had said it was because he felt jealous and guilty. This life, the life of a hunter was never guaranteed.

Two nights in a row he repeated the same action. The same feather-like touches. The same three sweeps of his thumb over my skin. The same faint yet deep sigh before he pulled away. During the day he acted as if nothing happened at all. Days spent partially ignoring each other while he drank, watched tv, or did who knows what on the spare laptop he’d taken from Sam.

Two full days snowed in with nowhere to go, no place to hide, not a single spot to be that wasn’t in the eyesight of the other. He barely spoke at all, but his eyes would follow. I felt him staring at me, watching but nothing more, not even a flirty comment.

According to the newest report we were going to be stuck at least another day while plows worked their way through the county roads freeing the asphalt from the clutches of ice and snow. The Impala was covered, I could hardly see the rooftop through the snow. It wasn’t a pretty sight for Dean either.

“We could call Cas? I’m sure he’s got enough juice to get us and Baby back to the bunker.” He seemed so agitated and annoyed lounging in bed, but he scoffed at the idea.

“You know he doesn’t have enough in the tank to do that. That last fight with those rogue angels did him in for a while.” He spoke through clenched teeth like the very thought of speaking to me hurt him.

“I could get ahold of Gabe, he owes me a favor.” It just an innocent statement that I softly spoke. No malice or anger in my voice, I didn’t have the energy for it anymore. Ignoring Dean was exhausting and I was over it.

“Right, and have to see that little asshole fawn all over you, I don’t think so.” He jumped up abruptly from the bed and stalked towards the bathroom mumbling about 'cupcake’ and 'sugartits’. The door almost closed when I spoke up.

“I’m sorry.” I sat at the tiny kitchenette table closing my laptop. Resting my hands in my lap, fiddling with my fingers avoiding glancing at him as I spoke. “I’ll uh… maybe I should go stay with Jody for a while when we get back.”

“If that’s what you want,” the harshness in his voice and I felt gutted.

“Dean,” letting out the breath I’d been holding onto. “I don’t understand why you seem to hate me so much now for pointing out what everyone else has seen for years.”

“Then maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.” With that, he locked himself in the bathroom for a shower.

The lights began to flicker halfway through my shower and by the time I’d stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself, the power was completely out. I could hear Dean swearing from out in the room stumbling around as he hit something, maybe a chair.

“Great, just fucking great,” he grumbled. Cracking open the bathroom door just enough to see his shadowy figure opening the curtains. Only the eerie glow from the snow, not a single street light or other was on. Darkness as far as the eye could see.

“There are emergency candles in the freezer.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing because I’d startled him, making him jump.

“Why the hell are they in the freezer?” His annoyance fading.

“Old trick I learned from my grandma. Frozen candles burn longer and brighter.” Fumbling with my pajamas trying to get dressed in pitch blackness.

“When did you get candles or is that something you always carry with you?” The flicker of his lighter offering a soft glow in the murkiness of the room while he sifted through the freezer and lit a candle. I witnessed the glint of his eyes rolling when he realized he had nothing to put it in.

“Fill one of your beer bottles with a little water and put the candle in it.” He looked toward the bathroom door but didn’t see me. “Usually I do carry candles in my bags, but I never replaced the ones from that witch hunt. I bought some at the gas station. It seemed like a good idea.”

“Right, I forgot.” The sound of the kitchenette sink running as he filled a few bottles half-full with water. “Why water?”

“Stabilizes the bottle and the cold water keeps the candles from heating up and burning unevenly.” By then I was out of the bathroom in time to see him placing a few candles around the room.

It only took an hour before the cold began creeping inside the room. Dean had crawled in bed laying on his back, arm draped over his head. Every spare blanket and sheet he could find in the room piled on the bed. He wasn’t the easiest to read at the moment. His face was a blank canvas. Sleeping beside him was going to be as awkward as it had been the last two nights.

I crawled into bed, but I couldn’t make myself lay down. My body and brain fighting against each other. His little comment earlier finally made sense and I felt like an idiot. All these years, the denial over how we made each other feel. The fear of the other getting hurt or worse preventing anything other than harmless flirtations. I suppose it’d been this way since that weekend so many years ago when we met at Bobby’s. The fear of loving someone as a hunter.

The dance of giddy smiles and silly laughter at ridiculous jokes and over the top innuendos that embarrassed Sam and confused Cas. The glances and winks between us during hunts or research. Sweaty palms and flushed cheeks whenever we touched, even innocently. On those stupidly drunken nights where we got so close I could taste the whiskey in the air he exhaled. Barely feel the graze of his lips on mine before he’d leave and lock himself in his room in the bunker.

I knelt beside him, staring down at that idiot of a man. We weren’t in Las Vegas but I supposed the same rules applied. What happens during a snowstorm with no power stays in the motel right? Cold, fighting back the shiver, but worse was the shutter of admitting how much I adored that moron of a man beside me.

Leaning over smelling his cologne, letting that intoxicating scent flood through me. Lingering on the outline of those lips, I let myself get lost. Biting back the urge to know how they felt, but my self-control was gone. Swift but gentle was the kiss. A quick 'maybe he won’t feel it’ sort of kiss like the ones on those drunken nights in the bunker, but it was Dean.

His lips moved in response, slow but with purpose. The arm he draped over his eyes now snaking its way through my hair holding my head in place. I tried to pull away ashamed at what I started, but Dean kept kissing. Plush and warm, velvety to the touch those lips were. Warm, so warm as they strode over mine, but he let me sit up. Staring up at me with those glistening emeralds in the candlelight.

“Please.” The word was quiet and pleading, but the word itself caused a laugh to bubble out.

“Did Dean Winchester just say… please?” I arched an eye staring gobsmacked down at him. Dean rolled his eyes trying to hide the hint of a smirk.

“Shut up,” he groaned swiftly lifting me over his waist.

Maybe I should have put up a fuss, but I’d be kidding myself. His hands roved over my thighs and waist. Skilled fingers hooked into the neck of my t-shirt pulling me down. His lips met mine half-way, each movement of those lips pulling me fully down on top of him. My chest crushed against his. Hips slowly grinding into each other. The vibration of the growl rumbling in his chest. Dean wanted it as much as I did.

His lips gliding a trail down my neck, nibble and sucking on my collar bone. Greedy kisses and roaming hands. His tongue dragging up my neck, settling itself on my lips. Breathy and needy, Dean responded with a devilish smirk. Despite the power outage and lack of heat, the room felt nice and toasty.

Slowly sitting up, his arms tucked around my back slipping under my t-shirt. Fingers scratching and grazing. Groaning he kneaded his hands into me forcing me closer. Hips grinding into each other. Fabric creating friction that wasn’t enough. Grunting through a kiss, Dean grabbed a handful of my ass causing a moan to flee my mouth.

Teeth and lips grazing over my neck. Biting and sucking leaving a road map of marks. Dean began laughing seeing how prominent they were in such a short time. Obvious and too hard to cover up without make-up, but he kept going. Each whispered sigh egging him on. He didn’t have time to play subtle anymore. Too hard and excited at the buffet before him. His hands slid to the button fly on my pajama pants. Tearing the material, ripping them apart right down the seam.

Exposed, the sudden cold air making me shiver. Thrusting upward, dry humping against me grinning. His boxers were wet from the excitement on both our parts. Smirking sucking in his bottom lip glimpsing how easy it was for me to oblige. Scrunching his nose, chomping down on his teeth and clenching jaw playfully.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he chuckled between nips at my neck.

“And you talk too much.” The low whine in my throat pulling his shirt over his head.

Eyes wandering over all the scars of the job. My fingers tracing each spot. Symbols and evidence of his stubbornness, his bravery. The stoic hotheaded hero forever putting himself in harm’s way for others. Dean’s body tensed, suddenly caring how gnarled and pockmarked his body had become over the years. No longer the smoothed lad of his youth, but haggard and rugged.

All the damaged spots I could get my lips on were kissed with a gentle caress. Closing his eyes, he hummed with each contact. His body vibrating as it relaxed. Reaching between us, my hand slid beneath his boxers. Hissing out a groan his eyes opened wide. Freeing him from the confines of the cottony fabric. He peered through hooded lids, biting the inside of his lip in anticipation.

Lifting myself just enough to guide him inside. The guttural gasp he whimpered as I took all of him. Bottoming out, feeling him stretching me out. Slowly his head dropped with a soft thump. His forehead resting between my breasts. Those skills fingers coming to rest on my hips pressing with merciful force locking me in place.

Griping hold on his shoulders. Rocking and grinding. Friction and warmth hitting just the right spots. Breasts bouncing the faster I moved. One of his hands smothering a breast, kneading and massaging. The action had me snapping my hips into him harshly. Laughing deep and low he popped my free nipple in his mouth. The flick of his tongue and the graze of his teeth and I was putty. Arching forward letting him all he wanted.

My slowed pace, taking my time enjoying moment driving him mad. Thrusting up in tandem, his palms grabbing a handful of tush. Fingers digging in as he tried to gain control. Scratching up and down my back. Mellow touches verging on rough scrapes on skin. Faint grunts rumbling in his chest. He was studying my face. Memorizing each expression and the sound of my moans. Glancing over my shoulder, perhaps getting a nice view in the mirror across the room.

Growling and shaking his head, glaring across the room. Was it my tattoos that bothered him so much? Maybe it was my battle scars from hunts throughout the years. Craning my head to take a peek only to be met with his mouth feverishly on mine. His tongue gliding between my lips worming its way inside. Curling and winding around mine. Dancing across the moist appendage claiming it all as his.

That knot deep inside burning and building. Brushing closer and closer to the surface. With heavy breath and a territorial growl, I pushed him down on the bed. My palms resting roughly on his chest, his cupping and pinching my rump. Rolling my hip, moaning, and cursing.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” through a whimpered pout.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he grunted. “I’m right behind you.”

His hands in a death grip on my hips pounding upward with frenzied speed. Leaning back, body overcome with the force of his blows.

“Dean,” the mumbled whisper crying out into the darkness.

He was a madman, thrusting wildly. Slamming harder each time. The sting of it sweet, leaving me wanting more. The pressure from his fingers digging into my skin sure to leave a speckling of bruises come morning. Deads of sweat along his hairline. A desperate plea glinting in his eyes.

The orgasm slamming into me, exploding like a bomb. Flashes of bright lights dotted my vision. Closing my eyes feeling him twitching inside. Pulsing around him. Overstimulated, I melted into his chest. Leaning in for a kiss, riding out that high. Delving my tongue in his mouth. Slithering around, feeling him smiling through the kiss. My hands diving though his hair, arms wrapped around his neck holding on as if I’d float away.

Snapping my hips to meet his thrust. Head nestled in the crook of his neck trying to catch my breath. He bellowed out a growl. Body tensing, rigid thrusts slamming harder against me. Throbbing and twitching, spilling inside. Haphazardly slowed movements driving every last bit of him out. Shuttering shakes until his body stilled. His fingers let go of their hold with the cracking of his knuckles. Nails delicately scratched over my thighs and across my back. Panting to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he hummed a raspy whisper in my ear.

Lifting my head, eyeballing him funny.

“I never should have snapped like that.” Emerald orbs shining the candlelit as they peered my way.

“Dean.”

“This life, this job we do… I don’t wanna hide it anymore Y/n.” Cradling my face in his palms. Regret and elation awash in those eyes. “I love you.”

**Meanwhile back at the Bunker**

“Gabe, I thought we had a deal? Where are they?” Sam stood in the library arms crossed glaring.

Snickering with an amused grin Gabriel sauntered around the library table settling himself in a chair. Kicking his feet up resting them atop the table popping a sucker in his mouth. The commotion of his appearance had caught the attention of Jack and Cas. Wandering in the library looking around for Y/n and Dean.

“No can do Sammy boy.” Gabe smacked the sucker, rolling it around in his mouth with a troublesome grin.

“Why not? What did you do? Are they alright?” Agitation rolling off Sam in waves.

“Oh, they’re more than alright I’d say.” He wagged his brows with a smirk.

“What does that mean?” The question was so innocent in Jack’s voice.

“Oh.” Sam’s arms dropped to his sides, eyes widened in realization. The shock turned to laughter.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Cas’ gaze peered toward Gabriel. The confusion was evident in his face.

“Cas you sweet ignorant thing,” Gabe chuckled. “Old Dean-o and Y/n are finally knocking boots.” His head cocked to the side pulling the sucker from his mouth. “She’s got a cute little tush too.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Dean you think so,” Sam grinned sitting across from Gabe. The sucker dropped from his hands and shattered on the cold hard floor.

“You wouldn’t dare?” His voice cracked as his eyes grew larger seeing the seriousness in Sam’s demeanor. He said no more and took his leave, only the sound of fluttering wings and Sam’s laughter echoing in the library.


End file.
